


Un-/Disguised

by larissabernstein



Series: Robed in Strength [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Collection: Purimgifts Day 2, Coping, Episode: s03e04 Aperitivo, Gen, Injury Recovery, Introspection, POV Female Character, Trauma, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-28 03:55:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6314350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larissabernstein/pseuds/larissabernstein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This vignette takes part around episode 3x4, <em>Aperitivo</em>.</p><p>This is Alana Bloom's design.</p><p>Written for Purimgifts 2016.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Un-/Disguised

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JinkyO](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JinkyO/gifts).



Flowers don’t feel right anymore, she thinks as she smoothes her hands over the thin fabric.  
  
It has taken her many weeks of hard physical therapy to finally become adept enough at using her cane to forego the wheelchair altogether. Weeks filled with frustration and pain, tears and sweat, but above all: anger. It turns out, anger is a pretty good stimulus. And so she has kept pushing herself to her limits and beyond, because giving in and wasting away between bouts of mute depression and the relentless maelstrom of _whywhywhy_ echoing in her head is not a viable option.   
  
“Survivor”, the newspapers have called her. This, among the more juicy monikers found in the tabloids, like “cannibal bride” or “the FBI in bed with a serial killer” (and wasn’t this one especially ridiculous? when has she become the embodiment of _the FBI_?) or even “the elegant murderer’s romantic accessory” (now this would make a fine subtitle for a bodice-ripper, wouldn’t it?), is surprisingly the worst insult. As if “surviving Hannibal” has become her new and sole identity, effectively cancelling out her personality, her achievements, her own biography.  
  
She does not want to _survive_ ; she wants to _live_. Defenestration might be a whimsical word with a cruel reality, but it is certainly not a defining label.  
  
Every little step in her convalescence is a hard-won victory and an act of taking her life back into her own hands.  
  
Being allowed to get out of bed for the first time after being locked up in the fixation device for so long following her pelvic and spinal surgeries.  
  
Getting a damn shower, with help of course, but still a moment of strange pleasure, after those weeks of countless sponge baths. And Alana can’t deny there were goddamn tears on her face, both from exhaustion and joy.  
  
Making her rounds in her wheelchair, unassisted and unmonitored in the narrow confines of the orthopaedic ward. A taste of freedom.  
  
Still, even after going through so many stages and reaching small goal after small goal, the reconstruction of Alana Bloom is an ongoing process. It should scare her, how strongly the anger fills her heart, a new determination that speaks of revenge, in whatever form it may come. For a start, getting back on her feet, and quite literally so, is an antepast of future possibilities.   
  
The fine assortment of dainty wrap dresses, patterned silk blouses, and flowery pastels that make up her wardrobe feels alien to her. She’s always loved to dress in a very feminine, soft style. She was confident enough, knowing that her colleagues, patients, and students would not make the mistake of underestimating her. Her professional qualification and spotless reputation were facts that spoke for themselves.  
  
When she looks at herself in the mirror now, one of her favourite dresses hanging awkwardly on her frame, it feels as if she were wearing another woman’s garments. She’s visibly lost weight here and there, gaining edges and sharp angles that the medical corset underneath does not exactly tone down; her upper arms, however, have put on serious muscles. It is an incongruous sight, only emphasised by the different stance of her hips and the cane on her side.  
  
No, this won’t do. Taking her life back does not simply equal slipping on the old Alana like an ill-fitting costume.  
  
It is a spontaneous decision to call her tailor and make an appointment. She hardly used her services in the past, and when she did, it was only for small alterations of ready-made clothes. This new life of hers calls for a drastic makeover; she will go all out and splurge on a completely new wardrobe, custom-made and bespoke. The new Alana has no needs for alterations, as she will design her life from scratch.  
  
When she closes her eyes and focuses closely on the kaleidoscope of emotions and images swirling in her mind, she can catch glimpses of timeless plaid and herringbone, trouser suits in bold colours, expensive fabrics. Clear lines and minimalist patterns. Not a disguise, though, but the very opposite - an armour worthy of her current state, reassuring and shielding her just as much as reflecting her bold choice of courage over retreat.

And everything but reasonable shoes, the words of her doctors be damned. High-heels and a cane might be an unorthodox match, but then - so is bone and metal. Things that should not go together, but only make her stronger in the end.  


 

Valentin de Boulogne, Judith (1626/28)


End file.
